I troll for squid and I'm an outlaw. Anyone reading this narrative will probably know, in this context, a squid is a person who wants to be perceived as a fast sportbike rider but who lacks experience, skill, form and technique. (A sport bike rider in shorts, T-shirt and no helmet is not a squid, just dangerously ignorant.) Squids typically talk fast, look fast, wear colorful leathers and own the latest, greatest race-replica sport bike with obligatory fender eliminator and the front forks raised 10mm or so in the triple-clamps—not because they can tell whether the bike works better or worse with the forks raised but because it's trick and they believe saying they have done so makes them sound like experts (in a curious example of confusion they often refer to this on Internet forums as, "dropping the forks"). Of course, squid tires may reveal the rider's limitations, but not always. A serious squid may purchase race-takeoff tires for that I-just-got-off-the-track look. It hasn't occurred to them yet to spend money on a track school and learn to ruin their own tires. Squids can look fast; one can't always be certain.

Sometimes one can troll for squid and catch a shark. The wise predator must admit and accept the possibility of becoming prey. But sharks are rare. In fact, even squids are rare on less than famous sportbike roads. Aside from certain rides mandatory for bragging rights—Tail of the Dragon, Sunday Morning Ride, Angeles Crest Highway, Mulholland Drive, etc.—most squids prefer to do their racing with their mouth while their bike rests in front of whatever landmark local rides start from.

Catching a squid on a twisty road can be entertaining. The worst of squids approach cornering as a steady-state activity, first moving to the center of the road for what Reg Pridmore has called the, "Looky Loo line," entering the corner a gear too tall, carrying the same speed through the apex and until they stand the bike up. Then they accelerate like a demon until braking early for the next corner. Beware! Laughter can cause one to lose focus. It's always amusing to ride with a rider who can show you a wheel but only on the straights. Some squids may eventually discover the delight of body-shifting, late-braking, downshifting into the upper third of the RPM band, trail braking to the apex, powering through the apex, accelerating from the apex, changing gears as needed while well leaned over, all the time allocating the forces from braking, lean-angle, and acceleration so as not to exceed the available traction on a road surface one reads continuously even while looking through the turn, eyes level with the horizon, to where one is going, in the process leaving a comfortable margin on public roads for the unexpected, repeating this process corner after corner, relaxed and with confidence. Riders who can't do this are not necessarily squids, they may be learning. We all know a squid when we see one. Even squids recognize squids other than themselves.

In many states, exceeding the speed limit by more than 20MPH can (but probably won't) get you thrown into jail yet trolling for squid is a favorite sport, especially on a weekend when they are more likely to be about. It's a form of practice. I ride better if I'm chasing or being chased. Why do I do it when I'm otherwise reasonably intelligent and responsible? I don't even cheat on taxes or default insurance companies. I have little idea what motivates me to engage in this outlaw activity other than the obvious thrill of challenge. I'm not here to make excuses or attempt to justify road behavior which may horrify Buick drivers and antagonize red necks in powerful pickups. Bottom line: it's dangerous and illegal.

The essence of motorcycling, except perhaps for cruisers, is performance. Human nature being as it is, it's understandable that many motorcyclists believe themselves to be fast. This is especially true of riders who are faster than their regular riding buddies. It's also true if they have a fast motorcycle. For reasons only a psychologist would dare explain, most riders gauge performance potential by the machine's capabilities rather than a rider's talent when in fact rider talent is the more important factor on a twisty road. Many riders seem unaware of a vast disparity of rider skills which translates to a simple maxim: no matter who can't keep you in sight, there will be riders you can't keep in sight. It's the predator-becoming-prey thing. It will happen. The self-possessed hunter enjoys the ride, even as prey.

If one accepts that many riders believe a fast bike is fast regardless of rider then it's a given that one does not go squid hunting on a GSX-R1000. Another maxim: if you are squid-hunting on a superbike you best be good or some better rider on a lesser bike is going to show you a wheel, maybe a taillight. Ride a bike that's not perceived as fast. If you are good enough you whip the squids and maybe even a good rider or two. If you do come up short there is no need for embarrassment. An adventure bike works well for squid baiting—R1200GS, V-Strom, etc. No aggressive rider on a race-replica sportbike, sport-touring bike or naked performance bike wants to be passed in the twisties by some old guy in an Aerostich suit on an adventure touring motorcycle. Dual sports with appropriate tires work well on tight roads. The street-oriented supermoto bikes may be the best tool of all for squid baiting. Dirt bike agility and suspension travel, sport bike tires, light weight for serious corner speed—given adequate power, these things are wicked in a twisty canyon. Actually, they work so well you don't need squids. A good rider on a supermoto can challenge a good rider on a real sportbike, especially in a tight canyon. Experienced sport riders will know the supermoto's capabilities but squids are more ego than enlightenment. The power-is-everything riders will never believe the supermoto can whip them in the canyons—for best results, pass on the outside.

Aside from being an outlaw sport, trolling for squid is an endangered activity, threatened by ever increasing traffic on all roads. While I do most of my fast riding on a couple remote, lightly traveled mountain and canyon roads that are not routinely patrolled, every year I see more traffic and a greater law enforcement presence. Ironically, I suppose I will revert to being a new breed of squid myself, hanging out at favorite stops on once great sport bike roads, telling tales, "Those were the days! We were outlaws then, all my fast-riding sportbike friends and even respectable, middle-aged guys on sleeper BMWs." I wonder if I will remember why or why not I did or did not raise my fork tubes in the triple clamps?